So this was it? Eternal separation from God, all in a convenient pocket dimension size. Eternal torment enclosed by temporal currents at a juncture between time and space. Eternal death, where the living apparently could come and go as they pleased through small spatial gaps. Kassandra herself had been there before, in fact. Once, mid-teleport in Nightcrawler's secure grasp, she paused at that instant to have a look. None of that made any sense.

"What is this!" said one of the people that now gathered round. The large, winged man with the eye patch stooped low and looked Kassandra over, then, noticing the medal she wore around her neck, stood back and took a swing with some monstrous sword-axe hybrid. And Kassandra discovered that, while time flowed differently, it still flowed through this supposedly timeless, lifeless realm. And wherever, whenever there was time, there was power, even if it was harder to control. She dodged, daring even to laugh in delight over her discovery as he attempted swing after futile swing.

"Stop that!" shouted the black-haired man.

"She wears the emblem of an archangel!"

"I am well aware of that, but she is a powerful warrior." The man would not venture a guess as to how powerful, but seeing that she could manipulate time even in his realm excited him. "And as such, she is to be respected as my distinguished guest, if she is willing to parley."

"You know," said Kassandra cautiously, as she resumed temporal synchronization, "I daresay my opinion of you is beginning to change."

His face twisted into a mirthless mockery of a smile. "I thought you might come around. After all, you and I do have a lot in common. You are not a dishonest person at heart, yet you engage repeatedly in tactical deceptions, and if not outright lies, then withholding or manipulating the truth to accomplish your objectives. I have done likewise as you are now well aware, all for a cause I think you would find noble. I seek your assistance in purging the earth of corruption once and for all."

"If you were really so concerned about eliminating corruption, you'd start with yourself! You're not a liar so much as you are delusional. Auf nimmer wiedersehen!" Kassandra disappeared and, threading her way through the lines that, when moving, eddied ferociously within, beyond, and around the edges of… wherever, whenever she was, found her way back to where she'd left off.

A security guard watched with increasing concern as what looked like a potentially dangerous situation unfolded outside the courthouse. Some guy bothering a girl who had just said in plain English that she wanted to be left alone. Though he wasn't speaking English, he appeared to understand clearly. And he kept pestering her anyway. The discussion became very heated. Then he grabbed a hold of her. She screamed. And then, all of the sudden, the assailant was gone, leaving the girl coughing in a rapidly dissipating cloud of sulfurous smoke.

"Are you all right, Miss?"

"I'm fine. It's just… I'm fine." Her phone rang. "Hallo?"

She sighed and muttered something that, while not in English, did not sound in the least bit pleasant. "Thanks Forge. I'll let Charles know."

She then aggressively punched a button on her cell phone. "Hallo? Charles and Lorna are still in session? Tell them Alex, Carter and the rest will need their help, RIGHT AWAY! Yes, Carter, too. Somebody should let Annie know where her son is. And tell Charles to stick with following the telepathic signatures. Forge says radar, line of sight, and compass bearings are acting up again past Miami."

That was quite a display of power. So he was right that the girl could control and navigate through even the fiercest and most erratic chronological tempest. She would indeed have been valuable in helping the teleporters hold open the space-time rift and speed his forces through the portal. Also, there was her ability to discern and manipulate the truth, as well as her unique position in the genetic holy war he'd claim credit for engineering- after his victory was assured. Granted, she did wipe out quite a number of his unwitting pawns in Montana, but they were only human cannon fodder anyway, and a knight such as her still could be extremely useful to him, if only he could play her right.

She didn't even have to set foot on his island, though it might have been easier for all involved if she did. His island, a locale so carefully selected. Since long before the surrounding area was known as the Bermuda Triangle or even the Sargasso Sea, since even, as a couple of those pathetic Christian pub rat authors from England put it, before the fall of Númenór, its natural magnetic anomalies weakened the boundaries between dimensions. And, while he hadn't been watching her for anywhere near as long as he'd observed the others, he was pleased with how the seed of ruthlessness had taken root in her.

But as she was no offspring of his, manipulating her of course would be more difficult. And he may have underestimated just how cold and obstinate she could be. His appeal to her patriotism, her idealism, and her frustrations failed. And she l-l-l… she was, rather, utterly besotted with that Nightcrawler boy, right? Emotional, yes, but apparently not easily swayed by emotion.

"Ginniyeh," he said to one of his minions, "You will need to play the role of truth-reader, starting now, and possibly until our conquest is complete. Is there any possibility the time-rider would consider changing her mind to save the Nightcrawler's life?"

"None whatsoever, my lord Azazel."